So now I have Taylor interested in hunting. And the deer get absolutely no credit. The two of us sat in a cold blind (not as cold as my previous outing, thankfully) for three hours. We did not so much as point a gun at a mammal. A few piglets dashed in and out of our vision at one point. Did they bring Mama out to play with them? No, they did not.
The law (as I remember from my Texas days, anyway) says you are not permitted to fire more than a half-hour after sunset. That’s a good law, especially if you’ve gone without a good opportunity all day. As daylight fades, the imagination begins to run wild. Everything starts to look like a deer. So I had to urge Taylor to exercise restraint. Quin would have been a real burden to lug back to the house. Even field-dressed.
Daylight shows things as they truly are. Without it, we tend to either see them in exaggerated form. If we’re hopeful, everything looks like the object of our hope. If we are frightened, everything looks like a monster. That’s why Jesus beckons us into His light. But all things become visible when they are exposed by the light, for everything that becomes visible is light” (Philippians 3:13). He is “the Light of the world” (John 8:12). As such, He says, “Walk while you have the light, so that the darkness will not overtake you; he who walks in the darkness does not know where he goes” (John 12:35).
More Jesus equals more Light. More Light means fewer mistakes. Fewer mistakes means less cleanup, both for ourselves and for others. And less opportunity for a true tragedy.
— From Newness of Life, Feb. 4, 2018